


your own heart as signal

by alessandriana



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Young Avengers, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Multi, Work In Progress, Working title: THEY FIGHT KAIJU, because the fandom definitely needed another one of those
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandriana/pseuds/alessandriana
Summary: Billy Kaplan wants to be a Jaeger pilot more than just about anything (except maybe getting a full night's sleep). Mercury Echo's launch date is fast approaching and she's his best bet. The problem is, drift compatible partners don't just grow on trees, and Billy should know-- he's been searching. Then come rumors the PPDC is bringing in a new pilot for Mercury from out of town...





	1. 08.09.2019

08.09.2019

 

_KAH-THUNK._

_TSSSSSSSSSH._

_wump. wump. wump wump wump--_

Billy grabbed the spare pillow and flattened it over his ears, burrowing into the darkness.

 _......_  

 _wump wump wump_ _SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE._

"Shut _up_ ," Billy moaned, though there was no one there to hear him. His head was still pounding from the hangover of yet another failed drift. Nausea crawled up the back of his throat. He rolled over in bed, glancing reflexively at the clock. It was 6 am.

Mercury Echo's launch date was fast approaching, and the machinist's bay had started first shift.

Just as he was about to crawl out of bed and find someone to murder, Billy's phone buzzed on his side table, blue light splashing across his darkened ceiling. He flinched, and for a moment he was _in Las Vegas, the text about his sister coming in--_ but he didn't even _have_ a sister. He shook his head, banishing the foreign memory, and pushed up onto one arm to squint at the bright screen with dry eyes. There'd been a lot of these late nights and early mornings lately, and he was feeling it.

It was from Jonas. _Sorry to wake you, Billy,_ it read. _A bunch of new work just walked in the door. Would you mind coming in early?_

Billy muffled a groan into his pillow, feeling anxiety pool in his stomach, then rolled himself upright in bed and shoved the covers off his legs.

 _what, NOW?_ he sent back, a frown tugging at his mouth. _i thought we were almost done. launch is in two weeks._

Two weeks, and Mercury still didn't have pilots.

The reply came back almost instantaneously. _New code to install, fresh from up north._

Billy frowned. _Up north_ meant the Anchorage Shatterdome, where the main programming work for the Jaegers was done. All the tricky code that dealt with the neural interface was written there, and then it was shipped out for install. Billy's team maintained the individual Jaeger operating systems, since no two were entirely alike. 

 _something wrong?_ he asked. _thought they didn't like adding new shit to the code this late in the game._

_I'll tell you the details when you get here._

Billy sighed, rubbing the crease on his forehead. _please tell mere there's_ _at least coffee?_ he sent.

_Already brewing._

_good man_ , Billy said, and started grabbing his clothes off the floor.

 

***

 

When Billy staggered into the lab twenty minutes and a quick shower later, Jonas was at his computer station, though to Billy's surprise he wasn't actually working-- a rare occurrence. Instead he was leaning back in his chair, talking to a visitor. Cassie Lang. She looked up as the door shut and grinned at him. "Hey, Billy," she said.

Billy grunted a greeting and headed straight for the coffee pot. True to Jonas's word, it was making the gurgling noises that meant it was just finishing up. He poured a mug and gulped it down, nearly scalding his mouth in the process. He spit it back, breathing heavily through his mouth, muttering, "Ack, geez, shit." He heard a sympathetic muffled _ouch_ from Cassie.

On the bright side, the pain had done a good job of clearing out the worst of the headache.

Milk from the mini-fridge solved the coffee’s temperature problem, and he knocked back half of it in one swallow.

"Better?" Jonas asked, once he was done.

Billy dropped into his rolling chair, absently swiveling to log into his computer. The PPDC logo flashed across the screen and then faded; the Blue Spark source code editor was already open on his desktop. He shook away the lingering feeling that he'd just signed in with the wrong password-- and that he was at the wrong job, for that matter-- and said, voice hoarse, "Sleep would be nice."

"I saw you headed to the test facility pretty late last night," Cassie said, half question.

Billy shrugged, and opened his email client to see if anything had come in since his last shift. Forty emails in nine hours, geez, _overnight_ , and only half of them had come from the [shatterdome-all] mailing list. It was definitely getting close to showtime. "It was the only slot on the testing equipment we could get," he said to the screen. With Mercury still pilotless so close to launch, the Jaeger Program had opened the selection process to anyone who had a feasible drift partner, and the atmosphere around the Shatterdome was like the lottery-- every yahoo and their siblings, parents, partners and/or significant others were trying their hand at the drift test equipment, hoping they'd be the lucky ones to get selected. Billy among them.

"This was with Victor, right? How did it go?" Jonas asked.

Billy didn't look up. "89%," he said, and took another large gulp of his coffee to cover the awkward silence that ensued. Victor and he were casual friends, both members of the regular League of Legends tournament the Shatterdome hosted. They worked well together in the game; he'd hoped that meant they'd be drift compatible, too. Apparently not, or at least not enough, anyways. He hoped they'd come out the other side at least still friends.

"Well... that's better than last time," Jonas offered.

"Well, yeah. Last time was 46%," Billy said, still scrolling.

46% and he were _not_ still friends.

There was an email in his inbox from one of the engineers downstairs, Altman-something-or-other. He'd never met the guy, but he was the only one with an actual brain on that team; Billy almost looked forward to his emails. He clicked on that one first, and opened the attachment, scanning down the columns of data.

Ok, maybe _almost_ was pushing it. _Please please tell me these are not the real nozzle flow numbers,_ he wrote. _They're thirty percent off the estimate and I am really not going to be happy if we have to re-code that entire section. I might even cry._

The response came back almost immediately. It was short.

_Er... I'll spring for kleenex?_

Argh. _Just_ what he needed this morning.

 _3-ply with lotion, bare minimum_. _I'm a classy kind of guy._ Billy hit send and then, sighing, backburnered the recalibrations for later and swiveled around to face Cassie and Jonas. "Anyways!" he said with too-bright cheer. "What brings you here, Cassie?"

She was a frequent visitor to the lab-- she and Jonas were dating-or-something-- but not usually this early in the day. If she was here, it was because of her day job as assistant to the J-Tech Crew Chief for the Shatterdome (her father, Scott Lang).

"Making a delivery," Cassie said, gesturing with a USB stick. Billy raised his eyebrows; Jonas had been being literal when he said new work had _walked_ in. "This got shipped on the early flight from Anchorage this morning. I've been told to inform you guys it needs to be installed in Mercury before the end of next week."

Billy took the USB stick from her and plugged it into his computer, opening the first file inside. "They couldn't have just emailed the data?" he grumbled, scrolling. It contained about two thousand lines of code, written in... he squinted. "Is this Cabreado? Seriously?" Cabreado was the operating system used on the Panamanian Jaegers. Though all the Jaegers' operating systems had been forked off of Brawler Yukon's initial code, after five years of development significant differences had built up.

Jonas leaned over his shoulder. "Version 3, I believe," he confirmed. Billy closed out of that file, and opened the second. It was essentially the same code, but modified for another language. "And that's... Quinix?" Quinix was the system for the one and only Canadian Jaeger, Chrome Brutus. He scrolled further, frown growing. He could tell the code had been written to work together with the neural interface, but not much more. It was... weird.

The third file in the batch was the original stripped-down code written for the neural interface. Billy flipped back and forth between files, looking at the ways the original code had been modified to work with Cabreado and Quinix. He was starting to get an idea where things had been changed to work with the different Jaegers, where it pulled data from and where it sent data to. It was designed to interface with another system, one whose programming wasn't contained in the Jaeger's base code. The problem was that he had no idea what system it had been designed to interface with, or what it was _for_. The main part of what it did was transfer information to and from the neural interface-- which he understood. The rest was data processing. Lots and lots of high-level data processing. He recognized some of it, but the rest... well, interpreting _that_ was thankfully beyond his paygrade.

"So what exactly is this for?" he asked, slumping back in his chair. He brought his hands up to massage at the headache still pounding faintly at his temples. Jonas leaned over to take control of the mouse, scrolling through the code himself.

"I have no idea, sorry," Cassie said, with a sympathetic grimace. "I _was_ informed that this was all the information they were going to be able to provide. They just said to get it installed."

"That's asinine," Billy snapped. "They want us to load something on a brand new Jaeger and they won't even tell us what it does? They do realize we're not magicians, right? What if there are software conflicts?" He tugged at his hair, feeling his blood pressure spiking. "And in a _week_? Mercury's not even finished for another two, and even then there's no pilots yet! What the hell are they in such a hurry for?"

It was meant to be a rhetorical question-- the higher ups were not known for being talkative-- but Cassie leaned forward conspiratorially. "So _that_ I might have an answer for," she said, then hesitated. She seemed torn, and she was looking at Billy, not Jonas. Billy got a sudden bad feeling.

"What?" he asked.

Cassie bit her lip, then said, "Okay, so... rumor has it they're bringing in a pilot for Mercury from the Panama City Shatterdome."

Billy sat back in his chair, stomach plummeting. "Oh." His voice came out weak. 

Mercury had been without pilots for months now. Her first pair had withdrawn when one had been badly injured in training. Other potential graduates of the Jaeger Academy had been snatched up as the new Mark V Jaegers had come online, beating the Mark IV Mercury out of the gate because of delay after delay in the engineering process (designing a Jaeger that was legitimately fast was a complicated endeavor). And as time had passed with no serious candidates, Billy had begun to hope. 

And now this. Billy swallowed around the lump in his throat. Mercury had been his best chance at getting in the hot seat of a Jaeger. Probably his only real one. All he'd needed was to find the right partner, and he'd been _trying_.

He breathed in and shook his head, pushing aside the self-pity. The world needed an operational Jaeger more than it needed Billy specifically to be the pilot. And there would be other Jaegers, other opportunities, he told himself, though the words sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

"That's great," he said, trying not to let it show.

Jonas looked up from the computer, turning a thoughtful expression on Cassie. "Just the one pilot? Singular?" he asked.

Billy's depressed spiral of thoughts came to a screeching halt. He frowned, hastily rewinding Cassie's words in his head. "Wait, what?"

Cassie flashed a quick grin at them both. "Bingo. His co-pilot hasn't been selected yet." She held up a finger in the face of Billy's sudden wide-eyed expression. "They're bringing in a few potential candidates from the Jaeger Academy who've passed the initial quals to test him with," she added.

Billy teetered on the edge of hope. Still... _still_. That wasn't necessarily an insurmountable barrier. He closed his eyes briefly, and brought himself back with an effort. "So what's so special about this guy?" he asked. "Why'd they go with him and not an established pair?" 

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know all the details-- I don't even know the guy's name-- but allegedly he's had some kind of piloting experience before. They're figuring he'll be a better candidate even with a new partner than anyone else they have. Candidates are pretty thin on the ground right now."

"If he's had piloting experience, why doesn't he have a partner?" Jonas asked.

"Did they die? Though I haven't heard of any pilot deaths recently." That kind of thing tended to make the news, to put it mildly. "Maybe it's one of the pilots from the early days of the program?" Billy bit his lower lip. What would it be like, drifting in the head of someone who had had a co-pilot die?

But Cassie shook her head. "I don't _think_ that's it. He's spent the last couple years at the Panama Shatterdome. They haven't lost anyone." She hesitated. "Rumor has it-- and I don't know if I believe this or not-- he was their backup pilot. Like, he took over if one of the others got sick or injured or something."

" _Backup_ pilot," Billy repeated in disbelief.

"That's what people are saying," Cassie said, spreading her hands.

"How would that work?" Jonas asked. "You'd have to be drift compatible with multiple people."

"That doesn't make any _sense,_ " Billy put in. You had one person you were drift compatible with (or in the case of Crimson Typhoon, two), and that was that. Pilots weren't interchangeable-- you couldn't just swap them out like-- like a dirty pair of _pants_.

Billy opened his mouth with more questions, and Cassie threw up her hands. "Sorry, Billy, but that's literally all I know. Hey, fun story-- you know who _would_ know more about this than me? Kate. She's been put on the selection committee."

Billy's eyebrows shot up. _"Has_ she." She hadn't mentioned anything about it at their last sparring session, two days before. He rolled back from his keyboard with sudden intent. He could make it over to her side of the building in less than fifteen minutes--

Jonas' hand descended on his shoulder, grip tight.

"You can run off to be a Jaeger pilot _after_ you help me get this code installed," he said firmly. He leaned in closer. One of his eyes was twitching. "There is no way am I doing this all by myself."

"Jonas--" The hand didn't loosen, and Jonas was _strong_ for such a skinny guy. There was no way Billy could wiggle away. He slumped, giving Jonas a wounded look. "Okay, yeah, fine. I'll get this done, and _then_ I'll go." He spun around in his chair and pulled up the code editor again, squinting at the screen, and doing his best to ignore the fragile hope that had taken up residence in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title stolen from Vienna Teng's Level Up, which has been the working theme song for this fic for pretty much as long as I've been writing it.
> 
> _so come out._  
>  _you have been waiting long enough._  
>  _you’re done with all the talk talk talk with nothing on the table._  
>  _it’s time to come on out._  
>  _there will be no sign from above._  
>  _you’ll only hear the knock knock knock of your own heart as signal._
> 
> _if you are afraid, come out._  
>  _if you are awake, come out._  
>  _come out and level up._


	2. 08.09.2019 - 2

Ten hours of work later, Billy and Jonas had finally, finally gotten the code hacked into something that might work on Mercury. Billy had even made some headway into accounting for the new fault tolerance numbers while the systems ran automated checks against the new code to look for software conflicts. Eventually, Jonas-- who was possibly even more sleep-deprived than Billy these days-- fell asleep on his keyboard, and Billy took the opportunity to sneak out the door.

It was only 4:30, and the number of people still in the hallways momentarily surprised Billy. He was used to coming into work at 7:30 and leaving at 8, by which time most of the Shatterdome employees had already headed home for the day. Billy had been assigned quarters in the Shatterdome itself earlier that year in consideration of the long hours he'd been pulling to get Mercury ready. It was little better than a closet with a bathroom tacked on, but it shaved off an hour or more of commute time on either side. (Even post-apocalypse, LA traffic sucked.)

The Shatterdome's training facility was down at the end of the first floor main corridor, not too far from the loading bay. Billy could hear the distant sounds of Kate and Eli arguing all the way through the thick steel doors.

He had to jump back as they slammed open and Eli stormed out, fuming in the way that meant Kate could only be a few seconds behind him. Sure enough, she appeared in the doorway not a second later, shouting, "--so take your advice and shove it, Eli Bradley!"

Eli just gritted his teeth and stomped down the corridor. He spared Billy a nod as he passed. Billy waved awkwardly back.

"So... what was that about?" he asked Kate as Eli's footsteps faded (mostly for the form of it, not because he actually wanted to know. Kate and Eli had been fighting-- and flirting-- ever since Billy had met them, back when he'd been a new hire working on the programming for the Mark IIIs at the Anchorage Shatterdome, and they'd been brand new recruits in the pilot training program. Over the years he'd mostly learned to ignore their arguments, if only for the sake of his own sanity.)

Kate released a pent up sigh, shoulders loosening. "Ugh. Just Eli being a judgy bastard as usual," she said, rolling her eyes. "He thinks Clint and I haven't been spending enough time in the simulator lately. I told him, until the programmers can figure out how to accurately model the power lag in Apollo's bow, it's worse than useless." She frowned. “Uh, no offense.”

Billy shrugged, unoffended. “Simulations is not my department.” Thankfully.

"Anyways, what are you doing here? Isn't it a little early for you to be out of your cave?"

"I snuck out when Jonas fell asleep at his desk again," Billy confessed. "I wanted to talk to you."

Kate quirked an eyebrow. "Is it going to take a while? I'm supposed to meet up with Clint to spar in ten."

"How about you spar with me instead?" he offered.

Kate squinted at him. "Okay, now I'm really curious. Usually I have to force you to practice." She pulled the door to the training room open, waving Billy ahead of her. "You can borrow Eli's gear."

"Won't he mind?"

Kate smirked. "Yes."

Billy sighed, but followed her in.

 

***

 

"So." Kate clapped her gloves together, then settled into a ready stance. The room was quiet. In one corner America Chavez was running on the treadmill with headphones over her ears; in the other, a guy Billy didn't recognize was punching the weight bag. "What's all this about?"

Billy bounced on his toes, nervous energy coursing through him and temporarily banishing the crushing exhaustion. "I heard a rumor," he said brightly.

By Kate's expression-- a little bit amused, a little bit exasperated-- she had some idea what he was about to ask. "A rumor about...?" she asked, stepping forward and throwing the first punch. Billy dodged to the left and snapped a kick at her knee, which she pivoted away from.

"That there's a new pilot for Mercury," Billy said, and then followed it up with a roundhouse punch that went slightly wild; Kate ducked out of the way. He dropped his voice, even though there was no one else nearby. "And that his co-pilot hasn't been selected yet."

Kate backed off for a moment, hands in a ready position but not moving to attack. "And let me guess, you want to compete for it." She smirked. "For the record, you're the fourth person today to come talk to me about this."

Crap. He was late. "But I'm the one you like best, right?" Billy said, batting his eyes.

"Sadly, you're correct, but considering one of the other people was _Whitney_ , I don't know how much of a compliment that really is."

Whitney Frost was possibly Kate's least favorite person in the entire Shatterdome. "I'm surprised she tried. You didn't tell her anything, right?"

Kate snorted. " _Hell_ no."

"Good." Billy kicked and Kate dropped an arm to block it. "So this guy was-- what, Panama's _backup_ pilot?"

Kate grimaced. "Technically I'm not supposed to confirm or deny anything," she said. She swept a foot at Billy's ankles; Billy checked it with his leg. "Angle your leg out more, you want to catch that move on your shin," she instructed, and showed him how, hands firm on his ankle.

"However," she said more quietly, still leaning down, "there's nothing stopping me from telling you that I've recently spent a lot of time on the phone with my friend Gert on Hydra Corinthian in Lima. They and the pilots from Panama train together pretty frequently. She's never met this guy, but she said she's heard _plenty_ of rumors." 

"So..." Billy prompted. He was a little breathless, and it wasn't entirely from having to stay balanced on one foot while Kate fiddled with his stance. "What does your friend Gert have to say about this mystery guy?" 

Kate shrugged. "Allegedly, yeah, he's Panama's backup pilot. Been stationed there for two years. She said he's been out in a Jaeger four times, twice just for coastal defense when the Kaiju was further north, but the other two in actual kaiju fights, against Saberhead and Bonereaper. And each time he co-piloted with a different person. It's been kept out of the news, though I don't know why."

"Jesus. He's drift compatible with four different people?" Billy could hardly imagine it. He hadn't even managed _one_.

Kate hesitated, and covered it up by releasing his foot and stepping back. "Here, let's try that again." She did the same kick, and this time Billy must have blocked it to her satisfaction, because she transitioned immediately into a follow up sequence. He had to focus completely to keep up with her, and for a moment he didn't have room to think about Jaegers.

More people were beginning to trickle into the room. Billy spotted Clint entering just over Kate's shoulder, presumably arriving to spar. He didn't do or say anything, but a sudden, secret smile stole across Kate's face, and the next second Billy found himself flying through the air.

He bounced off the mat and lay there, gasping, grateful for the mat's thick padding. It was pretty comfortable when you weren't impacting it at a high rate of speed.

"Show-off," he heard Clint say nearby.

"Suck it, Barton," Kate said, and flipped him off. Billy closed his eyes, fighting down an unexpected surge of jealousy.

"You all right?" Kate leaned over him.

"Just give me a second... to get my dignity back," Billy wheezed, waving a hand weakly.

Kate's eyes crinkled at the corners. Her hair had half pulled out of her ponytail, and a strand dangled down into Billy's face, tickling. He wrinkled his nose.

"You really have to watch your balance on that move," she said kindly, straightening up and smoothing her hair back neatly into its tie. "Keep it more on your back leg. It's even more important in a Jaeger; their center of gravity tends to be a touch higher than it would be in a human, which can make it easy to overbalance if you're not careful."

"Yeah, I noticed," Billy said, and reached up. Kate clasped his hand and pulled him to his feet. Their sparring sessions were always educational. And painful. Pain definitely factored into it.

Kate released his hand and stepped back. "Allegedly," she said very quietly, "it's not just four people. They haven't found _anyone_ he can't drift with yet. And they've tested him against all the pilots in Panama."

It took Billy a moment to realize she'd switched back to their previous conversation. He looked up, incredulous. " _No_ one?"

Kate shook her head. "Total integration every time. With everyone."

Billy rocked back on his heels. "That's amazing."

"It's bizarre." Kate bit her lip. "It's not how drifting is supposed to work." She glanced back towards Clint, on the weight equipment in the corner.

Billy didn't say anything, but privately, he didn't see what the problem was. Being able to drift with anyone-- it was the kind of ability he'd kill to have. "It'd increase my chances of being able to drift with him," he pointed out.

"It'll also increase your competition for the spot," Kate countered.

It was a fair point. Billy nodded. He'd have to stand out in some other way; he just wasn't sure how.

"So... will you do it? Get me a spot in the tests," he asked, coming to the crux of the issue.

Kate sighed, and rolled her head on her shoulders, neck cracking. "Well," she reflected, "your sim scores are pretty good, and you're not totally hopeless in a fight. Today's performance excepting," she added, with a raised eyebrow.

"I was distracted!" Billy protested.

"I noticed," Kate said, with a wry grin. "And anyways, you were fighting _me_ , so I suppose it's understandable. I'd put you up against most of those crappy Academy grads any day."

"Says the Academy grad..."

"So..." Kate hesitated, and Billy saw that same flicker of discomfort in her eyes. She searched his face, though, and must have found what she was looking for, because she said, "I'll refer your test results to the board. No guarantees, though."

Billy broke out in a huge grin, hope bubbling up in his chest. " _Thank you,_ " he said, fervently. "Seriously, I can't even--"

"Don't thank me just yet," Kate said, holding up a hand. "There's a price."

Billy's eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"

Kate settled back into a ready stance, arms up in front of her face. Her mouth turned upwards in a fierce grin. "Sparring. Lots and lots more sparring. Every day. We've gotta get you up to par, if you're gonna do this thing. I can't have you embarrassing me, right?"

Billy groaned, but settled back into his own position. "Yeah, okay, fair enough," he said, then paused. "Oh, I didn't ask-- what's this guy's name?"

Kate started forward. "It's Thomas Shepherd!"

 

***

 

Two days later, Kate left a terse message on his voicemail. "Wednesday morning, nine-thirty in the training room. Don't be late."

 


	3. 08.15.2019

 08.15.2019

  _ksssshhh-clack_

_\--wuga-wuga-wuga-- tssss_

_WHOMP._

The clock ticked over from 6:14 to 6:15, and the shrill alarm began to sound.

_beep beep beep beep beep beep beep--_

Unfortunately for Billy's neighbors, there was no one there to turn it off. His bedroom was empty; he'd been up and gone for an hour already, too wired to sleep.

Forgotten on his bedside table, his phone began to ring, adding to the cacophony. Light from the screen splashed blue across the bedroom ceiling. It ended as the call went to voicemail.

_Hey Billy, it's me, Kate. Look, I just met Shepherd, and... we need to talk. ASAP. Give me a call back._

Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. There was a thump as some fed up neighbor threw a shoe at the wall. It made no difference.

_Billy, seriously, pick up. I need to talk to you._

Fifteen minutes, this time.

_Goddammit, Kaplan. You forgot your phone again, didn't you?_

_*sigh*_

_Shit._

*beep*

 

***

 

There was a line of five candidates waiting outside the training room by the time Billy got there, around 8:45, and the tests had clearly been in full swing for a while. One face looked vaguely familiar, though Billy didn't know her name; one of the Shatterdome locals taking advantage of the opportunity to test for Mercury. Most of the others he didn't recognize, which meant they must be the pilot candidates flown in from the Academy. They all looked very... buff. Billy swallowed, electing not to make small talk, and tried to find a spot of wall without _too_ much grime to lean against while he waited for his turn. 

There was the muffled sound of clapping from inside the training room; one of the fights must have finished.

A half minute later, the door clicked open and Kate poked her head out, scanning the line. An expression of profound relief crossed her face when she saw Billy. She closed the door behind her carefully so it wouldn't make a noise and then walked quickly, almost running, to reach his side. Five bored Academy grads watched her go, the only entertainment in the otherwise quiet hallway. Kate grabbed Billy by the arm and dragged him further down, away from their prying eyes. Her fingers dug into his bicep.

"Did you get my messages? I tried to call, but you weren't answering your phone," she asked in a low voice, gaze piercing. Startled, Billy barely had time to shake his head before she continued, "You're adopted, right? Do you have any biological siblings?"

Billy's head jerked back at the unexpected line of questioning. "I-- what? No, not that I know of, why?"

Kate chewed on her lower lip. "Billy... I met Shepherd this morning, and there's something you need to know. This guy, he looks _just_ like--"

The door to the training room swung open again; Billy turned instinctively as laughter and loud voices spilled out. One voice rose higher than the rest, sharp with a New Jersey accent, reminding Billy viscerally of home. "I don't know, man, everyone's been pretty good so far--"

The rest of the words were drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. The boy-- the man-- walking out was so fair his hair was practically white, and his eyes were blue-green, but those were incidental details because his face, his _face_ was exactly the same, in every line and detail, as Billy's own.

"--you," Kate finished, too late.

Billy just gaped.

 

***

 

The hallway had gone silent. Whether that was because people had actually stopped talking or because Billy had no attention to spare them was unclear. The stranger was still focused on his conversation with David Alleyne, and hadn't noticed Billy yet. Perhaps sensing the pressure of a half dozen people staring, he glanced up, quick gaze taking in the hallway.

His eyes caught Billy's. His mouth opened halfway and then stopped there, lips parted.

Billy swallowed and found his voice. "Whoa," he said, the word falling from numb lips.

The stranger was utterly still for a long moment, a frozen segment of time where he and Billy mutually stared. Then he blinked, breaking out of his paralysis. His face shuttered closed, packing away the naked shock behind high walls. Traces still lingered: he was breathing too fast. He stepped forward, eyes raking sharply over Billy.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm-- uh. Billy Kaplan." Automatic 'meeting people' subroutines took over, compensating for the loss of brain function; Billy stuck out his hand.

The stranger ignored it. "Is this a joke or something?" he asked the room at large. "Because if so, it's _not funny_."

Billy exchanged glances with Kate. "It's not a joke," he said. "Or-- if it is, it's on both of us. So." He swallowed again, mouth dry and heart pounding in his ears. Hand still outstretched, he turned the stranger's question back on him. "Now-- who the hell are _you_?"

The stranger seemed to shake himself, and finally took Billy's hand. His grip was warm and firm, sweaty but not uncomfortably so. His knuckles, Billy noticed, were bruised and scraped. Otherwise the hand could have been Billy's own. "Tommy Shepherd."

"Oh," Billy said. _Oh_. Kate's words finally connected; this was the Jaeger pilot, the former 'backup' pilot, the one who had been in Panama and the one who had been selected for Mercury. The one Billy was supposed to be testing with in a few minutes.

No wonder everyone was staring.

Still stunned, Billy barely noticed Alleyne grabbing Kate by the arm and dragging her back into the training room with him. "You look," he took a breath, "a lot like me. _Really_ like me."  

That dragged a laugh out of the stranger-- Shepherd, his name was _Thomas_   _Shepherd._ "No shit," he said. "Though I'd say it's more that _you_ look like _me_."

"Yeah." Billy asked, "Do you have any idea what... what this--" he couldn't figure out a way to finish the question and so settled for motioning vaguely between the two of them.

"Not a fucking clue," Shepherdsaid.

Billy nodded convulsively. Though really, there was only one logical conclusion here. "Do you think we're..." Billy drew in a breath, and instead of the word that tightened his chest, substituted, "brothers?"

"Last I checked," Shepherd said, with the kind of even tone that only came from suppressing strong emotions, "I was an only child."

Billy blinked. 

Billy had known, for as long as he could remember, that he was adopted. Had known in theory that somewhere out there were people he was genetically related to: a mother, a father; grandparents, cousins; maybe-- maybe even siblings. So this-- this was a shock, no doubt. But he'd always been aware of the _possibility_.

Shepherd was looking at him like he hadn't even had _that_.

"I'm adopted," Billy said, half disbelieving. "Are you--"

Shepherd gave a humorless crack of laughter. "Last I checked," he repeated, shoving his hands into his pockets, " _no_." 

Billy was still trying to think of something, _anything_ to say to that, when there was a brief commotion and Billy saw-- with something approaching relief for the distraction-- Vice Marshall Rogers pushing through the crowd. He was frowning, and he didn't seem surprised to see Billy and Tommy; Alleyne and Kate trailed behind him, and Billy gathered they must have had some kind of discussion. Kate had an odd expression on her face that Billy didn't have the mental energy to interpret at that particular moment. 

Rogers walked up and stopped, taking a moment to examine them both. He was frowning, but it was thoughtful. Then he turned to Billy, who started at the sudden focus. "Billy Kaplan, right? One of the pilot candidates today, the one that Kate Bishop recommended. You tested for Solar Enigma a couple years ago."

Billy wasn't sure if he was surprised Rogers remembered him. (Though he obviously hadn't remembered what he looked like, or things would have gone differently today.) "Yes, sir."

Rogers nodded, as if Billy had said something insightful. He turned to Shepherd next. "Your files say you're an only child. Did you know about this?" he asked.

Shepherd straightened, shoulders coming back. "No, sir."

Rogers nodded again. "This must be a shock, then." He tapped his fingers on his crossed arms. "Alright. Take a break, everyone," he said, raising his voice so the whole hallway could hear. "Come back at eleven." The watching crowd groaned, but Rogers ignored them. He lowered his voice again, addressing Billy and Shepherd. "Go find yourselves someplace private. Talk about it. Figure out what's going on. Then come back with your head in the game. I'm sorry I can't give you more time, but we still have five more tests to finish before the end of the day, and the kaiju aren't waiting." He raised an eyebrow. "Got it?"

"Yes sir," Billy and Shepherd chorused.

"Good." Rogers turned, saw Kate, and jerked his head at her. She approached with a bright fake grin for the bystanders, and said through her teeth, "C'mon, I've got somewhere we can go." She grabbed Billy and Shepherd by the shoulders, and propelled them around the corner, out of sight.

 


	4. 08.15.2019 - 2

Space was at a premium in the Shatterdome, with close to five thousand people crammed into every inch not already taken up by the hangers and the labs, but each Jaeger crew had been allotted their own ready room, tucked in an out-of-the-way section of the Jaeger bay.

"You can borrow ours," Kate said, leading them past stacks of equipment piled high in the corridors; this was mechanics' territory, demarcated from the rest of the Shatterdome by the pervasive odor of grease, hydraulic fluid and stale coffee, as well as the constant sound of hammering. Billy followed closely, keeping an eye out as they dodged people carrying boxes and heavy equipment. Shepherd was a few steps behind, and Billy could feel his gaze like an itch between his shoulder blades. "It's small, but at least no one is likely to interrupt."

"Sounds great," Billy said, ducking to avoid getting brained by a woman carrying a long metal pole of some kind over her shoulder. Then he had to sidestep a forklift that was loading crates inconveniently in the middle of the hallway, and he was so focused on not getting run over it was a complete shock when they stepped out of the corridor and the room opened up, bay ceiling soaring an astonishing 20 stories upwards to accommodate the Jaegers housed there. Dust sparkled in the bright spotlights. Somewhere far overhead he could hear the sound of a bird that had gotten in chirping.

Closest to them was Keen Apollo. 260 feet tall, her armor was a dark purple, with golden arrows painted along each shoulder in homage to both her namesake and her main weapon. Sparks arced down from a platform next to her arm where the welders were making repairs, far enough up Billy couldn't have picked out individual workers if he'd tried.

Behind and to her left was Star Hazard, a shorter but significantly bulkier 235 feet tall. The spotlights around her station were dark, no repairs or upgrades currently ongoing, but ambient light reflected off the white star centered in the blue armor of her chest.

Half-hidden behind them both was the third Jaeger bay, currently the center of frantic activity. Billy craned his neck as they crossed the floor, staring unashamedly as the Jaeger inside came into view.

 _Mercury Echo_.

His steps faltered, lost in wonder.

She was no longer the half-built skeleton he remembered from the last time he'd passed through. While Billy had been busy toiling away on her code in the confines of his office, the engineers and mechanics had been hard at work putting together the rest of her. At 245 feet she stood in between Apollo and Hazard in height, but was noticeably sleeker than either of them. Her armor was dark green over silver. The stylized wings of the PPDC logo spread across her chest just above the Mark VIII arc reactor, which glowed an actinic blue even under the bright spotlights.

What really made her stand out, though, were the sixteen silver thrusters that swept up like wings along the back of her legs and arms, four each. Together with the advanced piston system in the legs, and a specialized blend of high-thrust LOX fuel, she was the fastest and most nimble Jaeger on record, capable of short straight bursts of speed up to 150 miles an hour, or 100 over longer distances.

...Or at least that's how things would work in theory. Billy winced, remembering that he still needed to finish integrating some last minute changes before they could begin final checkouts on the thrusters. 

"That's Mercury?"

Billy turned to see that Shepherd had paused, too, and was staring up at the Jaeger. His face was hard to read, but his eyes were soft with wonder and longing. It made the tense feeling in Billy's stomach relax just a bit. If nothing else, it was obvious Shepherd loved Jaegers.

"Yeah," Billy said. Buoyed by a swell of proprietary emotion, he added, "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Shepherd shoved his hands in his pockets, expression turning wry. He didn't take his eyes off her, though. "Only until she gets into her first battle," he said. "That high-gloss finish doesn't hold up for long."

Billy shrugged and looked over at Apollo and Hazard, scratched and dented from a half-dozen fights. "Eh. Gives them character," he said, and for the first time Shepherd smiled, a little crookedly.

A loud _BOOM_ echoed through the air, and Billy jerked his head up. A large piece of metal had broken away from its supports and was dangling in the air next to Mercury's knee by a single cable. On a platform nearby a blond man shouted something down at the workers below, a laptop balanced precariously in his right hand as he gestured frantically with the other. Billy abruptly remembered all the signs they'd passed on the way in, warning about it being an _Active Work Zone_.

"We should probably get out of here before we die," Billy said uneasily.

"...Good idea." Shepherd quirked an eyebrow, waving Billy ahead. He and Shepherd finished the walk in something close to companionable silence.

Billy had never been inside the Apollo ready room before, so when Kate unlocked the door and held it open for them he craned his neck around with interest. The tiny living room area was crammed full of _stuff_ \-- a overstuffed worn floral sofa set apparently stolen from some grandmother's living room took up the bulk of the space, but there was a bookshelf full to overflowing in one corner and a rack of deadly weapons, including actual bows and arrows, in the other. Billy nearly stepped in a water bowl in the middle of the floor; the word _Lucky_ was emblazoned across the side, the name of Clint's dog. He nudged it carefully out of the way, avoiding the water as it splashed.

"Sorry about the mess, it's all Clint's fault," Kate said, though Billy had seen her room and knew it was every bit as bad as this. She grimaced as she ducked into the tiny attached kitchenette, where a space-age looking coffee machine took up most of the counter. "Espresso?" She paused, hand on the cupboard door. "Alcohol?" 

Billy snorted. "Tempting." But they both had to be back for the tests soon enough. "Just coffee, please."

Shepherd nodded agreement. He wandered over to inspect the rack of weapons, reaching out a hand to pluck a bowstring.

"Clint's not around?" Billy asked, in a vain attempt to settle his nerves. The conversation outside had helped a little-- made Shepherd seem less of a total stranger-- but Billy still felt shaky, ready to vibrate out of his own skin with adrenaline. He kept catching glimpses of Shepherd out of the corner of his eye and feeling startled all over again. There was really no mistaking the resemblance.

"No, he's out doing something with Tony, I think," Kate answered, naming one of the chief engineers. The espresso machine made a grinding noise as it started up. Tommy moved to the pictures on the wall and examined them, tapping one of the frames and knocking it a few degrees out of alignment. Tommy's expression had closed off again, revealing little, but Billy read tension in the fidgeting.

Steam rose as the water heated. With Shepherd still focused on the photos, Billy took the opportunity to stare. Like this, he found it easier to see the differences as well as the similarities.

Shepherd was the same height as Billy, but somehow _lean_ where Billy was just _skinny;_ he obviously spent more time working out. The hair... the hair was weird. Not blond, but pure white, in a way that reminded Billy of his grandfather. He'd assumed it was dyed, but on closer inspection there was no evidence of roots growing through, and Shepherd's eyebrows and eyelashes were the same color. He and Billy had almost identical haircuts, though; short on the bottom, longer on top, with strands curling into their eyes. Self-consciously, Billy reached up to push the hair back from his face.

The silence stretched. Billy realized Shepherd had stopped fidgeting; he stared fixedly at an empty spot on the wall, shoulders set. A moment of intense stillness passed, and then Shepherd straightened, turning away from the photos.

"So. When were you born?" he asked abruptly.

Kate, who had just stepped into the living room with two espresso cups, froze and visibly debated backing away.

Billy reached out to take a cup from her and downed the shot in one gulp, wincing at the burn. His hands were shaking. He wished he'd gone for the alcohol. 

Fortified as best he could, he said, "June 10th, 1994. Cresskill. New Jersey. You?"

Shepherd hesitated for a long moment, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Also June 10th, 1994." His voice had gone rough. "Also Cresskill."

"Oh," Billy said, and sat down heavily on the couch.

"Yeah." Shepherd walked over to Kate, took the remaining cup from her with the barest flick of a smile, and sank down to rest on the arm of the loveseat.

 _Not just brothers. Twins._ Billy finally allowed himself to think the word. He cradled the empty espresso cup between his hands, feeling the warmth slowly leech into his fingers as the remaining foam trickled down the inner curve.

"I knew I was adopted," he repeated. His brain slowly, slowly started to work through the possibilities. "I've known ever since I was a kid. I didn't know if I had any siblings, though." He hesitated. "You said your parents never mentioned anything. Do you have a picture of them? Maybe..." He shrugged. "Maybe they had twins, and just couldn't take care of both, so they gave one up."

 _"Hah_." The explosion of air was nearly silent, a wealth of bitterness contained in one sound. Shepherd rocked back, hands going into his pockets. "That's hilarious." Billy's eyebrows went up; Shepherd's answering grin was bitter and sharp. "If they'd known I had a twin, they'd've bitched about keeping the wrong one." 

Billy had no idea how to respond to that. Shepherd was a Jaeger pilot, the most admired profession in the world. What was there to complain about?

Shepherd's grin faded, and he pressed his lips together, mouth thinning-- Billy got the impression he'd said more than he'd meant to. He turned to fumble in his pocket. "Anyways. Whatever. Here."

The picture Shepherd pulled out of his wallet, folded away behind his PPDC ID card, had clearly been there a long time-- the folds had gone white-- but it had just as clearly almost never been touched, because the edges were pristine and the colors had hardly faded at all. Billy took it from Shepherd with care.

It showed two people standing in front of a house; no sign of Shepherd, though from the style of clothing and the car sitting nearby Billy would guess it had been taken in the early 2000s, when he would have still been a kid. The woman in the photo was mid-thirties, short, aggressively thin, with sandy blonde hair that was nothing like Shepherd's pure white. The man was a similar age, taller, in the early stages of developing a beer gut, and had dark brown hair not too far off from Billy's own. It was the only sign of resemblance he could see. There was nothing in the faces that made him sit up and think 'yes! those must be my birth parents!' But genetics were weird, and maybe it would be different in person?

Shrugging, he handed it off to Kate, who'd been leaning quietly against the wall this whole time, trying to make herself invisible. She glanced between it and him, then shook her head.

"Like I said." Shepherd took the picture back and tucked it into his wallet with only the briefest glance.

Billy bit his lip. He'd known Shepherd for less than half an hour, but it was obvious the guy had issues around his parents; Billy just didn't know where the minefields were to avoid. "Can you ask them?" he tried. (How did you even bring that up? _'Hey Mom, Dad, I heard I might not really be your kid!'_ )

Shepherd shrugged, putting the wallet away. "Got an exorcist in your back pocket?" he asked. "They died in 2014."

"Oh." Billy's eyes widened. " _Oh_. Sorry." Minefield: officially located. _Nice going, Billy._

"Geez, don't look at me like I shot your dog. We weren't close." Shepherd crossed his arms over his chest. Billy crossed his own arms in turn, only realizing he was subconsciously mirroring the pose after he moved.

"2014... was it a kaiju attack?" Kate asked quietly. 2014 had been before the Jaeger program; the kaiju-- and the tactical nukes that had been humanity's only effective countermeasure in those days-- had killed an estimated two million before the first Jaeger had come online. Everyone knew someone who had died.

But Tommy was shaking his head. "We didn't exactly get kaiju in New Jersey," he said, with a wry twist of his lips. "Just your regular, garden variety car crash. Driving too fast in the rain."

""I... " Billy couldn't think of a good response to that, so he didn't try. "My family lives in Manhattan now. That's where I grew up," he offered.

Shepherd's shoulders eased visibly at the change of topic. "We were in Springfield," he said. Barely thirty miles away, Billy thought. "Went into the city pretty often, though. I'm kind of surprised we never ran into each other."

"Hang out in comic shops much?" Billy smiled. 

Shepherd smiled back. "Nah, I got mine online, like all us modern kids."

Billy's smile broadened into a grin. "DC or Marvel?"

"DC. _Clearly_."

Billy clutched at his chest. "Ouch. At least tell me you're a Batman fan."

"Eh, too much of a goodie two-shoes. Give me Red Hood or Slade any day."

"Batman-- a _goodie two-shoes_ \--" Billy sputtered.

Kate took a sip of her coffee. "Developing a sibling rivalry already?" she commented. "That's awfully fast."

"Hey, I've had practice," Billy said. He added, to Shepherd, "I've got two younger brothers."

Kate smiled into her coffee cup. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, shifting so she was facing Shepherd. "So, Thomas," she started.

Shepherd flinched, covering it up with a theatrical shiver. "Oh god, don't call me Thomas," he said. "It's Tommy. Please."

"Sorry. Tommy," Kate corrected. "So, how did you end up down in Panama?"

Her question sounded perfectly casual. It was only the fact that Billy had known her so long that let him read the odd note underneath. Billy shot her a glance, but couldn't interpret her expression. 

Shepherd-- _Tommy_ \-- lounged back against the couch to look up at Kate from under his eyelashes. It was a blatant attempt at flirtation, but Billy noted his shoulders had gone tense again. "Just got transferred to fill a gap there," he said, and Billy didn't think he was imagining the subtle innuendo.

Kate raised an eyebrow, acknowledging but refusing to take the bait. She took another sip of her coffee. "As their backup pilot."

"Yup." Tommy popped the 'p'. "Ruiz on Puma Real was sick for six months, and after that I just worked with whoever needed it."

"And how does that work, exactly? You really can drift with anyone?"

Tommy spread his hands. "Everyone I've tested with so far," he said, then added with a smirk, "Why? You looking to trade in for a newer model?"

Kate snorted. "I'm good with the current one, thanks." She pressed, "What's your average integration rate?"

"Upwards of 96% every time."

Kate's mouth parted. "That's... impressive," she said finally.

Tommy shrugged. "Hey, some of us are just cursed to be amazing."

Billy snorted, drawing Tommy's attention back to him. "I don't think I'd call that a _curse_ ," he said. A _low_ of 96%. Billy had never even made it above 90%. "PPDC must have snatched you up immediately."

Tommy's eyes flickered over to Kate for some reason, and the flirtatious expression slipped just a bit. "Yeah, something like that," he said, and the tone of his voice carried a hint of bitterness. He shook himself and added, as if he had only just remembered, "You were there today to test out for Mercury, weren't you. Did they bring you in from the Academy?"

Billy could tell the subject was being changed, but he went along with it anyways; the tentative camaraderie between them was too new to push. Kate leaned back against the wall; apparently she was finished asking questions. Billy said, "No, I actually work here at the Shatterdome. I'm one of the programmers on Mercury."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow. "So you're the one I get to blame if something breaks?"

"That's the engineers," Billy said dryly. "You blame me if the operating system crashes."

"Fair enough." Tommy hesitated the barest fraction of a second. "You still planning to try out?"

Billy's hands stilled on his cup. He breathed in, and said, _"Yes_. _"_ Surprised and a little embarrassed by his own intensity, he added with a self-deprecating tilt of the head, "I mean, as long as you don't mind the prospect of drifting with a neurotic programmer."

Tommy seemed like he was about to say something, and then he just shrugged expansively. "Eh, you should've seen the neuroses I was dealing with in my last gig. What's a few more?"

"I hate saying it, Billy, but there's still eight other candidates to go through," Kate put in. She gestured between the two of them. "This isn't a guarantee you're going to get the spot."

Yes, Billy thought in the privacy of his own head, but _if_ Tommy really was drift-compatible with everyone, and _if_ they did well on their testing today, when it came time for Marshall Rogers to pick Tommy's new co-pilot from among a bunch of strangers... the guy with the same face might just have a shot.

Out loud all he said was, "I want to try."


	5. 08.15.2019 - 3

Tommy was leaning against the wall just outside the Kwoon training room, talking to Alleyne, when Billy returned for the re-scheduled test. They'd talked for another hour, then mutually decided a break was needed before the test. Now Tommy glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and the tense set of his shoulders eased marginally when he saw Billy. Almost as if he hadn't expected Billy to come back. 

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," Billy said, smile tentative.

"Have you met David?" Tommy jerked a thumb at Alleyne. "He's the one running the talent search here."

"The logistics of it, at least," David said, leaning forward to shake Billy's hand with a firm grip. His gaze was sharp and assessing-- no, _dissecting_. But somehow it didn't feel judgmental. David pushed his tinted glasses up the bridge of his nose and continued, "I make sure brain scans match up, that kind of thing. This isn't our usual method of picking candidates, so we're still figuring things out as we go along." Unspoken was the fact that most Jaeger candidates came with a drift partner already built in. He added apologetically to Tommy, "I don't have a lot of say in the final selection. That's all on the Marshall."

"Then we'll just have to see how things shake out in the ring," Tommy said, with a quick grin. He checked his watch. "It's time. Ready to go?"

Billy bounced lightly on his toes, feeling his adrenaline spike. "Definitely."

"You first," Tommy said, sweeping an arm, and David opened the door for them.

The LA Shatterdome didn't normally host drift compatibility testing; that took place up at the Academy in Anchorage. Instead, the Kwoon training room was used for the Jaeger pilots' daily practice sessions, and as such it was little more than four concrete walls and some mats inset into the floor. The only concession to the testing anyone had made was the PPDC banner slapped along one wall, in direct line of sight across from the balcony where-- Billy gulped-- an audience was beginning to filter in.

There were several people in suits-- bureaucrats in town for the tests, if Billy were to hazard a guess-- and others he recognized as working in various leadership positions around the Shatterdome. Scott Lang and Tony Stark had their heads tilted towards each other, deep in some conversation. Eli came in and headed towards the front where Kate and Clint were seated; Kate shifted over to make room for him. America, Eli's co-pilot on Star Hazard, sat behind him and propped an arm on his shoulder as she leaned forward to say something to Clint. 

There were no news crews. Billy wasn't sure if that was normal; this was the first time he'd made it this far in the process.

Kate saw Billy looking and flashed him a smile. She was showing a few too many teeth for him to really feel comforted. He gave a half wave back, and then approached the mats. Marshall Rogers was standing to one side. Billy faced him, Tommy at his side. "Sir."

Speaking so only they could hear, Rogers quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Did you get your issues worked out?"

Billy glanced over at Tommy. His expression had closed down in anticipation of the fight, but he caught Billy's eye and quirked one pale eyebrow. Billy still had so many questions, but for the moment they'd have to take a backseat. The testing-- his one chance at piloting a Jaeger-- took priority even over _unexpected twin_. He gave a tiny nod in return.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

"Good." Rogers nodded to Alleyne, who tossed Billy and Tommy each a hanbo. Billy clenched his fingers around the smooth wood grip, the weight intimately familiar after days of drilling with Kate. Raising his voice for the room to hear, Rogers said, "Four points to win."

Billy and Tommy bowed to each other, and the match was on.

When the Jaeger program had been first starting out, finding people who were drift compatible had been a crapshoot. Candidates who on paper were perfect for each other-- lovers, siblings, lifelong friends-- had failed miserably when it came to actually co-piloting a Jaeger. Eventually, a group of neuroscientists and psychologists had sat down together to come up with a concrete method of measuring Drift compatibility that didn't involve plugging thousands of people into the neural pons for each good match.

The neuroscientists had come up with the idea of comparing EEG scans. As it turned out, people with certain readings were more likely to be compatible with others who had similar readings. If Billy's measurements hadn't been within the EEG parameters that would allow him to drift with Tommy, he wouldn't be here.

The psychologists had come up with temperament checks to ensure there were no obvious personality conflicts that would prevent a good match-- again, if he hadn't passed those tests, Billy wouldn't be here.

Those methods still left hundreds of good candidates to test, though, and so one of the neuroscientists-- who happened to moonlight as a martial arts instructor-- had come up with one final method of testing drift compatibility: sparring. Specifically, pitting candidates against each other using a wushu/kendo derivative called Jaeger Bushido. That was what they were testing today.

Billy took a steadying breath, and set his hanbo in a defensive position. He could feel adrenaline burning through his veins, but night after night with Kate had taught him to channel that adrenaline into a kind of hyperfocused calm.

Although there was no specific criteria for this part of the test, rumor had it that the best candidates would be evenly matched, able to anticipate each other's moves-- ideally, scoring a 0 - 0 draw in the ring. Though Kate had made a face when Billy'd asked her if that was true. "It's not about a _score_ ," she'd said cryptically, and refused to explain further.

Billy kept his eyes on Tommy, and the world outside the ring faded into the background.

Tommy started out with a testing strike of his hanbo towards Billy's lower abdomen, blue eyes intent. Billy blocked, the force stinging the palms of his hands, and stepped to the side to let Tommy's momentum carry him past. Billy intended to sweep his legs, but Tommy saw it coming and dove into a roll to avoid it, bouncing back up onto his feet. Billy blinked at the hanbo suddenly an inch from his nose. The guy was _fast!_

"One - zero," Alleyne called from the side of the ring. Tommy smirked as he twirled his hanbo, showing off. Billy's heart was pounding in his ears as he stepped back into a ready position, hanbo up and mind racing. Okay, so maybe 0 - 0 wasn't realistic. But to keep it even he was going to have to make up that point. They were about equal in height, weight and reach, but Tommy clearly had the advantage of speed and experience.

Instinct was all that saved him. Billy dodged the strike before he consciously registered it, Tommy's hanbo whistling inches from his ear. He threw himself forward into a roll and stayed low, sweeping his hanbo in a return strike at Tommy's feet. Tommy saw it coming just in time and jumped, letting the hanbo pass beneath his feet. He landed and struck out at Billy, who was still coming up from his crouch. Billy blocked it and there ensued a quick back-and-forth flurry of blows, ending only when Tommy slid his hanbo in a glide down Billy's to catch him in the chest.

"Two - zero," Alleyne said. _Shit._ Tommy was starting to look a little... disappointed? Billy needed to think of something, fast.

Tommy began to pull back into a ready position, and in that fraction of a second Billy saw his opportunity-- he trapped Tommy's hanbo under his arm and slid his foot around Tommy's ankle, following him down onto the ground and landing with his hanbo pressed into Tommy's sternum. Tommy grunted as the air was knocked out of him. 

Murmurs from the crowd. "Two - one," Alleyne said. Did he sound a little amused?

"Don't you dare go easy on me," Billy warned, too quietly for the audience to hear. Sweat trickled down the side of his face; he quickly wiped it away on his shirt. He could feel Tommy's chest rising and falling with each breath under the pressure of his hanbo.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tommy said breathlessly, with a sudden wild grin, and Billy barely had time to react before a hand fisted in his collar and he was flying through the air.

He landed on his side and kept rolling to dodge the follow up strike he knew Tommy intended, but he dropped his hanbo in the process. Now he was weaponless, and getting close to the edge of the mat-- _bad position_ \-- so he used his momentum to bring himself to his knees just as Tommy returned for another strike. He felt the thrust more than he saw it, turning to let it glide past his shoulder. His hanbo was several feet away. He had to get to it somehow without letting Tommy get in another hit. _How--?_

Tommy didn't wait for him to think it through; Billy blocked a second hit with his forearm. While Tommy was overextended Billy tried to take him down at the knees; Tommy dodged backwards. It was enough of an opening for Billy to get to his feet, and once there, some judicious footwork got him next to his hanbo. In this situation, Billy thought Tommy would probably do something fancy to retrieve his weapon-- kick the hanbo up into reach, maybe. Billy wasn't that good, so he just ducked down to grab it when he judged he had a moment.

That proved to be a mistake. Billy felt Tommy's hanbo tap him in the side.

"Three - one," Alleyne said. _Dammit._ Embarrassment heated his cheeks. Billy bet none of the candidates from this morning-- tutored for months at the Academy-- had done this badly.

"You're thinking too much," Tommy said, stepping back, and Billy winced.

He risked a glance up at the balcony while he finished picking up the hanbo, knuckles white around the wood. Kate was leaning over the edge of the balcony, eyes dark and expression intent. Next to her, Clint watched with his chin propped in his hand. Eli's arms were crossed over his chest and he was scowling.

Paradoxically, seeing them anxious made Billy feel better. They hadn't checked out of the fight. That meant he still had a chance.

He straightened, took a deep steadying breath, and it was back on.

Tommy struck first-- _always on the offense_ , Billy thought fleetingly as he blocked, _probably rolls high on initiative--_ disengaged, and struck back; Tommy dodged, spun, and lashed out. Billy caught the next blow head on, a clash of strength they both quickly disengaged from upon realizing how evenly matched they were.

A series of blows in quick succession-- the slight drag of cloth on wood and a hissed breath told Billy how very close he came to connecting-- then Tommy snapped out a downward strike at Billy's foot. Billy'd been on the defense most of the fight, and it hadn't been working. This time, instead of blocking, Billy pivoted into the blow, grabbing Tommy's wrist with his free hand and using his hip as a fulcrum to throw him. But it wasn't as clean a throw as it could have been, and Tommy was no kidding  _really_ fast; Billy's hanbo tapped Tommy in the ribs just a bare fraction of a second before Tommy's hit him in the shoulder.

They stayed there for a moment, frozen, chests heaving, before Tommy dropped his hanbo. " _That's_ better," he coughed, letting his head fall back to the floor, and to Billy's surprise he realized Tommy was laughing. Billy grinned back, exhilarated.

"Three - two," Alleyne said.

When he reached down to help Tommy up, Tommy let him.

They both took a moment by silent mutual agreement, regrouping on opposite sides of the mat. Billy wiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back hair damp with sweat. His breathing was heavy, but with exertion rather than nerves. His hands and shoulders ached from the constant strikes. He needed two more points to win, but it didn't matter. At some point in the last bout, something had clicked. _Stop thinking_ , Tommy had said; Billy was never going to be good at that, but for the moment he'd found something just as helpful. He'd found the rhythm of the fight, the back and forth that was less about winning and more about the exchange-- the conversation with your opponent.

This time, when Tommy sliced forward with his hanbo, Billy saw it coming and stepped out of the way. When Billy swept his hanbo at Tommy's chest, Tommy read the move and dodged to the side. It felt like learning a language, one blow at a time. Tommy threw a snap kick and Billy blocked with his hanbo; Billy struck out with a quick combination and Tommy yielded backwards.

His heart lightened and his breathing evened out. At some point, Billy realized, he'd started having _fun_.

They were approaching the edge of the mat again, this time with Tommy on the outside, and it gave Billy an idea. He was beginning to understand some of Tommy's fighting style: he didn't like being pent in, probably because he couldn't take advantage of his speed if there was nowhere to move to, and he preferred being on the offensive. He could take advantage of that.

Billy flipped his hanbo into his left hand and used the unexpected angle to herd Tommy into the corner. Trapped, Tommy stood poised on the balls of his feet and his hanbo at the ready. He kept his eyes fixed on Billy's.

Billy went for a dramatic overhand strike, and sure enough Tommy was desperate enough to get out of the corner that he lunged for the opening, ignoring the obvious trap. Billy dropped his hanbo-- deliberately this time-- and used the increased maneuverability to grab Tommy's shoulder as he passed by. Tommy fumbled his hanbo, and it bounced carelessly off the mat, out of reach. _Hah!_

From there it was all quick handwork, Billy relying on instinct to react in time. He struck at Tommy's stomach and Tommy tried to elbow him in the face. Billy blocked and kicked down at Tommy's knee. Then Tommy stepped in when he really should have dodged backwards, and for a brief moment, his balance was off. Billy used the opportunity to sweep his feet out from under him. Tommy hit the mat, but just as Billy was dropping down to finish it, he felt his own feet hooked out from underneath him.

Billy slapped the mat as he hit to dissipate the impact and immediately flipped over to strike at Tommy's throat with the edge of his hand; at the same time, Tommy struck with his open palm at Billy's nose. They both stopped, breathing hard, inches away from each other. Tommy's pupils were blown wide with adrenaline and he was grinning fiercely; Billy could feel a matching grin on his own. He had no idea who had the point, but in that moment he wasn't sure it mattered. 

"Four - two," Alleyne said, over their heads.

Billy groaned and dropped his head back to the mat, chest heaving, each new ache and bruise making itself known as the adrenaline began to fade. Next to him Tommy laughed a little breathlessly. Billy felt the mat shift under him as Tommy rolled to his feet.

"Hey, that wasn't _too_ bad," Tommy said, and a hand appeared in his field of view. Forgetting for a moment about the audience, Billy flipped him off. Tommy gave a startled crack of laughter, and hauled Billy to his feet.

"I need more practice," Billy said ruefully, rolling his shoulder to work out the ache.

They turned together to face Marshall Rogers, who was watching with a carefully controlled expression-- Billy winced, belatedly realizing that maybe flipping Tommy off in the middle of an official match hadn't been the greatest idea. He glanced up at the viewing box to see Kate covering her face with her hands and Eli glaring disapprovingly. (Clint flashed him a thumbs up, and America was smirking, but he didn't entirely trust either of their judgments.)

"Good match, both of you," Rogers said, and didn't otherwise comment. "Kaplan, thanks for your time. Shepherd, take a ten minute break."

"Yes, sir."

Billy followed Tommy off the mat as he went to grab a water bottle. "Hey," he said. Now that the adrenaline of the fight was fading, his stomach was tensing up again, flutters of anxiety taking up residence in his ribcage.

"Sup?" Tommy tilted his head back, chugging the water. Billy shoved his hands awkwardly in his pockets. He was thirsty too, but wasn't sure if the water was up for grabs for everyone.

"Look," he said, and then paused, searching for the right words. Finally he settled on, "Even if this doesn't work out, you're going to be posted here from now on, right?"

Tommy nodded around the water bottle, adam's apple moving as he swallowed.

"I know you're probably going to be busy, but we should hang out. Or something. Spar, maybe?"

He just-- didn't want to let this go. They might be strangers, but Tommy was his _twin_.

Tommy finished his water and grabbed another bottle from the stack; instead of drinking it, he thrust it into Billy's hands. "'Even if this doesn't work out?'" he quoted with a raised eyebrow, as Billy fumbled with the bottle. Before Billy could respond, he continued, "I try to go for a run most days. Know any good places around here for that?"

Billy pulled the cap off, plastic ridges leaving indents in his fingers. "Um," he said, thinking. The Shatterdome had been built between the former Naval Base Ventura County and the Santa Monica Mountains, so there were plenty of places to stretch your legs. Not that he did much running. "Mountain or beach?" he asked.

Tommy shrugged. "Whichever's closer."

"There's an old stretch of road along the water just outside base," Billy said. "It has some good views."

Tommy nodded. "Sounds good. Meet you there at 6?"

Aw, geez. Tommy was a _morning person_. "...a.m.?" he double-checked, just to be sure.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "You got some other free time?"

Billy winced, thinking about his schedule. "Fair point." He took a drink, water cool relief on his throat.

"Shepherd, five minute warning," Alleyne called. Tommy waved acknowledgement. Billy glanced over; the next candidate, some impossibly buff Academy recruit, was already warming up over in the corner, looking fresh and well-rested.

"Six is fine," Billy said, capping the bottle. "And... good luck."

"Luck?" Tommy gave a cheerful smirk. "Who said I need that?"


End file.
